Version of Love
by Sailor Panda
Summary: [ItaSaku] It begins around an end and one can only hope that the ending to this new beginning will end well.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Written for LiveJournal community Uchiha Prodigy's February 2006 contest, theme 'Love.'

This is originally supposed to be a one-shot. I may keep it that way or I just may turn this into a short series, which I _so_ really don't need. So it may possibly still stay just a one-shot – it just depends on muse and interest. And, of course, the always present factor of time.

oOoOoOo

OoOoO

oOo

O

oOo

OoOoO

oOoOoOo

It begins around an end.

Sitting at the tavern's bar in the midst of enemy country, a figure morosely nurses a mug of beer while covertly studying the other occupants in the mirrored wall. Catching her own reflection, she muses about missing the familiarity of her usual pink hair now dyed black, though there had been nothing she could do about her eyes and they stare back at her as green as ever. Such precautions were probably unnecessary – no one who wasn't already dead had gotten close enough to pick out that much detail beneath her gear other than to discern that the ninja they were after was a woman.

But she is ninja enough to know that it could still be all the knowledge it took. Her own clothes marking what she is are stowed safely in her satchel in favor of the stolen threads of whatever local civilian who had been trying to take advantage of the odd stretch of dry weather in the normally wet country of Rain by leaving newly washed garments conveniently hanging outside on a clothesline. If she can make it through one more day undetected by whatever ninja the hidden village of Ame sent after her, she can cross the border into Grass and then pass through to Fire and then make it back home, her mission over and at an end.

At least one person should make it back alive…

The empty beer mug is thumped onto the bar counter and a motion is made for another hit, which the bartender is more than happy to oblige, wanting just enough of something to dull the bitter edge of aching memory, the reason of _why_ she's there alone in the first place. Anything to forget, for just a little while, the horrors she had left behind and the ones that are still trailing her. For just a brief respite, she'd try anything.

Then the door opens and she doesn't even have to try.

_Itachi! What the hell is he doing here?_

An odd feeling of the surreal overtakes her. She has sense enough to bend further over her mug to shield her features, though there's no real reason why he'd remember her of all people. Peering carefully at the mirror through the strands of her bangs, she watches as the familiar figure enters and slowly makes his way across the room. Without the red cloud printed cloak that marks him as Akatsuki, he could have been just another man. But he isn't and from the way he seems to slip around the place like a shadow and the way other onlookers don't even glance at this newest stranger in their midst out of even a passing inkling of curiosity, she suspects that he's expending a small bit of chakra to conceal his presence, though not enough to be readily detected. Tracking his progress, she observes his actions for future reference to report to the Hokage, if she manages to make it back home alive.

The door opens again and, this time, she tenses.

Through the mirror she watches several men filing in with watchful searching hard-eyed gazes that scan and pick apart the room and her previous preoccupation is overshadowed by this newest threat. Trained instinct has her senses buzzing in alarm and a quick debate occurs in her head of whether to stay where she is and hope their interest passes her by or try and slip out the back exit and risk drawing their attention with her movements.

The men under her observation methodically circle the room and, though she can't hear what's being said, it's obvious that they're asking questions of the patrons and it's really only a matter of time before they make their way to her. It's just as obvious that she doesn't want to try and bluff her way against the very people that are probably there hunting her. So as unobtrusively as possible, she bends down and picks up her satchel, lays some money to cover the price of her drinks, and begins meandering towards the back as casually as can be managed.

"Stop right there!"

At the cry, she pretends she doesn't hear and continues on her way. After all, the man could be addressing anyone in the room.

"You, with the bag – I said stop!"

Well, that rules that out. If she wasn't deep in enemy territory and outnumbered four to one, she might have tried to fight her way out. But the odds of her being able to do that and come out alive aren't in her favor.

Time for next plan – bluff.

Innocent expression is donned as she turns around. "Yes, sir? Were you speaking to me?"

"That's right," says a tall man twice her size and a scar slashed across his face.

He steps up to her while the other men he'd come with watch and she knows she has to be convincing or else she was done for. So when he looms over her, trying to intimidate her with her size, she recognizes the tactic for what it is and does what any civilian woman would do in the situation. Green eyes widen in fear as feminine body trembles in fear and a wavering hesitant step is taken back.

"W-Who are you?" she stutters and clutches her satchel before her like a shield under the man's eagle-eyed gaze and tries to throw him off. "I-If you're trying to pick me up, m-my husband won't be happy."

The man blinks, scowls. "I'm not here to find a good lay, woman."

She allows herself to stiffen in fearful outrage. "Don't use that kind of language around me!" she exclaims, then immediately shrinks beneath the man's narrow-eyed stare. "I-I mean, then what do you want with me?"

"I'll ask the questions here," the man harshly snaps. "And you answer them."

She flinches and hopes she doesn't overdo it.

But the scarred man and his comrades seem at ease for the most part, hands dangling loosely at their sides by their weapons pouch as if at the ready but largely unconcerned about threat, and that reassures her more than anything that she's still relatively safe from suspicion. However, all eyes are on her and her opponents are all watchful. Everything depends on how she plays it and if she gives away her hand too soon, she's as good as dead.

A part of her wonders why she's even trying so hard.

"First question, woman," the man growls threateningly, "just who the hell are you?"

"R-Riza," is her nervous response. "M-Mazaki Riza."

"Well, Mazaki Riza – what are you doing here? This hardly seems to be your type of place, doesn't it?"

"I-It's not. I'm waiting for my husband."

"Ah, yes. The _husband_." Dark eyes scrutinize suspiciously. "And where is this husband now?"

"I don't know. H-He just told me to wait here for him."

"And do you always do what your husband tells you to?"

"O-Of course." She plays dumb. "Why wouldn't I? He's my husband."

"So your husband just leaves you in a bar, alone and waiting until he comes back, and you don't know where he is?" A sneering grin creases thin lips. "I don't suppose you mind if we wait with you until he shows up then?"

_Fuck_, she thinks though she answers the only way she can. "I-I suppose it's okay. But," she shifts as if uneasy, "don't stay too close to me. My husband gets jealous easily and I don't want to make him mad. He…His temper can be scary."

"Oh, don't worry. That doesn't bother us. Right, boys?"

Dark laughter replies.

The situation isn't good. The eyes of the men are too sharp, too concentrated on her. Even if she makes the excuse to use the ladies' room, she has a feeling one or all of them will follow her to ensure she doesn't escape, even if it's only for routine. Women alone in this country are too suspicious a sight, no matter how local she appears, and she inwardly curses her gender. But with so many ninja scouring the roads, any traveling done at night is too suspicious and trying to hide herself in town had seemed a better bet than any other option at the time.

Now, though, things don't seem to be turning out very well. Then again, considering the information she's gathered, she supposes these extremes aren't terribly surprising.

Starting a war always involves extremes.

Prolonging the inevitable, she settles down and carefully notes the other men settling with her. It's only a matter of time as they wait for a man that only she knows doesn't truly exist but that they, the more minutes tick on by, will eventually realize for the lie it is. Uncomfortable silence grows as she continued playing the placid waiting wife while inwardly calculating means and chances of escape before watchful opponents whose gazes grow more unfriendly and suspicious the longer the wait.

"Your husband seems to be awfully late," the scarred man finally observes.

He pins her with a gimlet gaze as his body shifts in that ominous way her trained eyes proclaim as preparing for battle – a notion cemented by the echo of such movements in his comrades. Though she lets no physical motion betray her, she too mentally prepares for what she can't be avoided as the man leans in closer to continue his invasive inquisition.

"What did you say his name was again? And where-"

"I'm sorry I'm late, Riza," a voice suddenly breaks in. "Did you miss me?"

She wants to whirl around, confirm who the speaker behind her is, jump at the familiar hand that lands and squeezes her shoulder in a manner designed to look comforting but is, in reality, warning and bordering on painful. But too many eyes are upon them and she never takes her attention off where the real danger currently lies as she leans into her would-be savior and lets her gaze fall to the floor as she tries for an embarrassed blush.

"Of course I missed you," she says. "You were gone so long, I was starting to worry. What kept you?"

"Finding supplies took longer than expected. Now, tell me," a strong arm draws her close, "who are these strange men keeping you company?"

"No one you need to concern yourself with," the scarred man replies before she can. He rises from his seat, as do the several other men with him. "We were just keeping an eye on your wife. For her safety."

"Really?" is the cold response. "I prefer other men keeping their eyes to themselves."

"No harm done. I couldn't help but notice though…your wife doesn't seem to be wearing a ring."

This time, it's she who replies. "Oh, yes I am."

All eyes turn to her.

Fidgeting as if uncomfortable under the multiple stares, she tugs on a thin chain around her neck and pulls out from her neckline a gold ring dangling on the end. Mumbling to the floor, she explains, "We worry about robbers seeing it when we're traveling."

"Hmm…and just where was it you were traveling again?"

Her savior answers, "I really don't see how that's any of your business. Why should we tell strangers about where we're heading? Especially suspicious strangers who seem to have a little too interest in a woman who's already taken."

"Her marital status doesn't concern us. It's her possible occupation that does."

"What are you talking about?"

"That is something we're not required to indulge, especially if you are who you say you are. But you, on the other hand, _are_ required to answer our questions. Unless you want your travel plans to be…detained."

"Are you threatening me?" The man beside her straightens. "Just who do you think you are? Who are you to tell us what we can and can't do? The police?"

"You could say that. We're the upholders of law in this country and, if you know what's good for you, you'll cooperate. Or else."

The arm wrapped around her in a parody of affection ripples with movement, signaling that its owner will probably do something she'll regret. From the way the other men move, she thinks they have the same idea. Thinking fast, she throws herself against him and clutches desperately at his arm and coaxes faux tears to shimmering in her eyes.

"Oh, please don't!" she cries with frantic note not wholly feigned. "Just do what they say, honey. _Please_. They're only questions. Antagonizing the law will only upset me." One hand drifts down to rest quietly on her belly. "All this tension isn't good for the baby."

For a moment, everything seems to still.

Then the stiffness seems to drain out of her 'husband.' "You're right," he says in an unbelievably loving voice and she has to steel herself against the urge to pull away when a masculine hand drifts down to entwine fingers over hers where the made-up baby would have been. "After the last two tries, we have to do everything we can to ensure you at least carry this one to term. Don't worry. Once we reach my brother's, we can rest up and you can ask his wife about any tips we can use to doing just that." His attention shifts direction. "Go ahead and ask your questions, gentlemen. But be warned," his tone drops to glacial, "I may just be a simple craftsman, but if you do anything that causes us to lose this child too, I'll make sure somehow that you regret it."

Low mutterings around them indicate that the other patrons of the tavern observing the unfolding events take issue to the harassment of a pregnant woman, even if it's by the so-called law of the country that's supposed to be protecting them. She wants to smirk in triumph at the support, but restrained herself as the enemy hesitates in a moment of doubt as to the next steps of proceeding. There's no sense in throwing away the game when they're the ones winning, after all.

"Your threats don't matter," the scarred man finally states. "We still need to know-"

"Captain! Captain!"

The shouted interruption is accompanied by the loud slam of the tavern door hitting the wall with tremendous force as a man dressed in dark appears at the threshold. The newest arrival does a brief scan before his sights land on the scarred man.

"Captain, we've got reports of a suspicious intruder in the south pass."

"Male or female?"

"Too dark to tell. But when we called out for the person to provide identification, the target bolted. We, uh, lost sight of the target but we're tracking now."

"Idiots!" the scarred man furiously yells. "Can't you do anything, right? Men," he addressed the others of his unit, "let's move out."

"Wait, what about us?" a voice speaks up.

She thinks she'd kick her 'husband' if it wouldn't have been extremely suspicious.

"What about you?" the scarred man snaps.

"After everything you put us through, my wife especially, are you just going to leave? Without even apologizing?"

"I wouldn't push my luck if I were you. Count your blessings…we could have made things a lot worse. Now stop wasting our time. We've got real issues to deal with and can't be held up by and idiot couple. And congratulations on the baby," he sneers. "I'm sure the world needs another craftsman getting in the way of a _real_ man's work."

Without another backwards glance, the scarred man and his men depart so abruptly that the tavern door totters alarmingly on its hinges for a moment before it breaks off and crashes noisily to the floor. Fortunately, no observers are harmed but the barkeeper comes out from around the bar cursing beneath his breath as he examines the damages to his establishment.

"Damn ninja! Think they own the country and all the people in it. I'll never get compensation for this."

"Um," she interrupts hesitantly and feeling guilt, "should we…compensate you? For all the trouble."

"What?" The barkeeper's features soften. "Don't be silly. I won't hear of such a thing! It wasn't your fault. It was _theirs_. Besides, I like to grumble and all but I see a lot more damage during weekend brawls. A little thing like this is practically nothing. So don't go worrying your pretty little head over this." He winked. "Consider being able to see such a sweet pair payment enough. This old man doesn't get to see that many couples in love in this establishment. You just take care of yourselves and the little one you got on the way."

She opens her mouth but, rattled at the strangeness of suddenly being construed a couple with the man beside her, she has no idea what she'll say. Fortunately, her new companion shows no such hesitancy.

"Thank you," he murmurs with a nod to the barkeeper. His hand drops to the small of her back as he exerts pressure, urging her to move forward, herding her out. "Please, excuse us. It's getting late and we should get to the room I found us."

"Sure thing. Have a good night, you two!"

She nods to the barkeeper in acknowledgement as she lets herself be led out of the tavern. There's nothing else she can do. The street's too public a place and she doesn't want to give any hint of untruth to their story and risk it making its way to the ears of the men they've just escaped scrutiny from. But she does take the time to peek at her 'husband' for the first time since he first laid a hand on her and, though the visual confirmation only confirms what her other senses already know, it's still a bit of a shock at seeing the face of her not-quite spouse.

_Itachi. Why is he helping me? _

The only way to find the answer to the question is to ask, though she might not get an answer from him even if she does. It also means sticking around him long enough until they're alone and away from prying ears and that will bring in a whole different level of danger to her goal of continuing to live. For all that she's trained hard as a medic-nin, she's fairly sure that she won't be able to go up against Itachi one-on-one and survive.

And she has no idea why he stepped into the line of fire for her the way he had. She doubts he knows who she is; aside from the alterations she's made to her appearance, they'd only seen each other in the flesh once before and he'd had bigger fish to fry than to pay attention to the lowly Chuunin she'd still been back then. But from the impression she's garnered about his personality from that one encounter and the files she's since read on him, she doesn't think he'd go through all that trouble only to let her go so easily. So, either way, staying or escaping have equal downsides that were all hazardous to her health.

Then they turn into an alley and she tenses, sensing that this is the moment when things come to a head. And they do as he steps back and looks down at her with dark-eyed gaze and they're finally facing each other face-to-face instead of side-by-side for the first time that night.

Silence pools between them. She's the first to break.

"Why?" is all she asks. One simple word that, to her surprise, he answers with another.

"Convenience."

"That…doesn't tell me anything."

"It's not supposed to."

Muscles twitch with the effort to not lash out with frustration that bubbles up at the short-worded responses, so like another's of their mutual acquaintance that she almost gives in to the familiarity and forgets that he can trap her in an instant in red glowing eyes. But she remembers restraint just in time and only the flattening of lips and glittering of green eyes gives it away.

He doesn't miss even those little telltale signs.

She doesn't know how she knows, for his skills are better than hers and nothing physical gives him away. But she thinks she's somehow amused him and though that does nothing except to fray her temper further, it's better having an enemy amused rather than plotting the ways of one's death.

Of course, he might still be doing that anyway.

"What are you planning on doing with me?" she asks to distract herself, and because she wants to know. "What do you want?"

"To use you."

A simple answer wrapped in deceptively neutral voice that goes with deceptively neutral expression. The meaning behind words can be taken in many different ways and none of the ways that immediately spring to mind bode her any good. And her response?

Body stiffens and hands inch towards any available weapon.

"Cover," he says with tone touched with a hint of dark amusement that proclaim her actions have not gone unnoticed, "would be good for both of us, no? It's your choice, however, in the end."

She doesn't trust him. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I leave. Simple."

"Uh-huh. But would you leave me _alive?_"

"Yes," he states and she feels she's amused him again, but she's too busy worrying about survival and ramifications of his proposal to care. "Unless you care to explain the disappearance of your husband when those men return, little Leaf kunoichi."

She stills. "What makes you think I'm Leaf?"

The answer comes in a hand lifted, reaching out. She should move away, not knowing his intentions, and can't explain why she doesn't. Instead, she remains where she is as that hand reaches around her, pulls and tugs forward a strand of hair she'd decided to let re-grow long a while back. The lock falls across her breastbone but she doesn't look down to puzzle out the reason behind his strange actions until that hand's withdrawn and safely resting back at his side.

"You missed a spot," his words are smooth and low. "That's a dangerous mistake to make."

She does look down then and sees what she'd missed before. It doesn't matter that all she'd had to work with at the time was feel alone in the middle of a forest going dark with oncoming night by a trickling stream and a mirror nowhere in sight. A tiny spot of bright pink glared back at her accusingly from the surrounding mass of hair stained dark, a tiny innocuous spot that might have just cost her life.

"You said you'd leave me alive," she reminds him just in case he needs reminding.

"And do you always believe that a missing-nin will keep his word? Haruno Sakura."

It's her name on his lips rather than the question he posed that has true alarm skittering down her spine. She leaps back to fall into a defensive crouch only to find that she can't because he's already anticipated it and moved so fast he's behind her, her body bumping into his with the momentum she's started but can't quite stop. He has her hands restrained and locked together in his viselike grip and she falls into the only defense left to her. Instantly, she kicks out with a leg only to discover he's anticipated that too and it isn't long before she finds her front knocked hard and pressed to a wall, arms locked behind her, a steely leg wrapped and twined around hers so tight she can't even move.

Adrenaline rushes through her veins but there's nothing she can do. Her breath rasps in and out in harsh pants courtesy of wasted efforts as she waits for her fate to be sealed. It's not long in coming as the body behind her presses into her back, proof of how much stronger he is and how he has her at his mercy, and a low-pitched voice whispers across her ear just as his warm breath wafts across her cheek.

"Yes, I know who you are. Do you really think I'd keep tabs on my little brother and know nothing of the people he keeps closest to him?"

She isn't sure how to answer that, so she doesn't bother to try.

"Lucky for you, little kunoichi, I plan to keep my word. Accept or refuse…it's up to you."

Suddenly her restraints are gone and she's free to move. She's quick about it, whirling around to face her opponent only to find him yards away and still moving, back to her and whatever choice she chose to make. It's a decision more difficult than she thinks it should be, but then it's not a situation she ever thought she'd have to face. The wise thing to do is probably to walk away and forget his offer of help, especially since the details of which were still largely unknown.

But there are lions waiting at her back to counter the lone wolf she sees before her. In the end she decides and, stepping after the missing-nin disappearing down the alley, she chooses the wolf.

Better to be mauled by one than in numbers.

oOoOoOo

"Are you ever going to confront your brother?"

Sitting on a rickety chair in the rented room, she feels relaxed enough about his immediate intentions to pose the question that's been bothering her for quite some time. During the silence that descended between them in their walk from the alley to the inn room he'd purchased for the night, she'd had time to think. She discarded any ideas of asking him about the Akatsuki knowing he wouldn't be stupid enough to answer and, if he did, it would only be one more reason to kill her to insure her silence about the covert organization. A man who slaughters his clan for whatever reason won't hesitate killing a woman he's met only once. The more silence between them, the better but there's one thing she thought safe enough to ask, though whether he'd answer was a different matter.

Eventually, he replies. "If he finds me."

"If he finds you?" She mulls it over. "But you said you've been keeping tabs on him. Doesn't that mean you're planning something with him?"

"Does it?"

A muscle twitches as she glares. Though there's no inflection in his tone, there's just something irritating about him. Maybe it was the way he carries himself as he stretches out on the only bed, looks at her – through her – as if she isn't even there. If she didn't know any better, she'd almost think he's doing it on purpose just to get on her nerves – except that's rather petty of someone of Akatsuki caliber and there's no reason for that, is there?

Then again, what does she know of twisted Akatsuki mentality?

Scowling, she snaps, "And am I part of your plan to lead him to you?"

"And if you are?"

"You're wasting your time if you're planning on using me." She grits her teeth and tries to keep her voice calm. "He doesn't care me enough for you to use."

"Oh?"

That pissed her off. "Yeah, that's right. He's not much for being a team player. Or for being sociable. Or for…caring about anyone."

"Except me."

That gives her pause. "What?"

"It doesn't matter where I go or what I do. He's always going to chase after me."

She doesn't say anything. It was true in it's way. Love or hate, she knows Itachi is still the largest focus in Sasuke's life while she…she remembers the last time just weeks ago that she'd spoken to him, the last time she told herself that she'd leave herself open to hurt, the last time she told him that he needed to make a clear statement about his feelings for her because she was tired of waiting and hoping and needed things clear between them one way or another. She wanted an answer, a conclusion to the always one-sided seeming relationship or non-relationship that teetered between them.

She just hadn't expected the answer to hurt quite so much.

"I'm tired," is all she says, and it's true. "I take it you've got the bed?"

"Unless you want to share."

There's nothing suggestive in his tone, but she still eyes him warily. His gaze seems watchful and she has that impression again that he's amused. Then there's the slightest kick upwards of a corner of his mouth and she knows she's right.

"You don't have to look so untrusting. I won't do anything if you won't."

Again, layers in meaning and she's too tired to deal with it. "Thanks. But I'll take the floor."

"As you will."

It isn't a comfortable sleep. In fact, she doesn't sleep at all. As the night deepens, she just tosses back and forth upon the floorboards in a spot close to the bed because there's not much other choice of places in the small room. She tries to avoid thinking about when the last time the place had been swept, tries to avoid thinking of more weighty things like Sasuke and Itachi and what she'll say to everyone back home about this encounter. But halting those thoughts is just as impossible as stopping the memories of watching the men of her mission party slaughtered before her eyes, leaving her as the only one to escape for the sake of the mission, being unable to do anything but run away.

It doesn't matter how outnumbered she was or that everyone in her unit was already dead – the feeling of leaving them behind, deserting them, is one she just can't seem to rid herself of. She thinks of the families they might have left behind – wives, children – and how she won't be able to do anything except offer her condolences and tell them that they were heroes because they gave up their lives for her so that their mission would succeed and the information she carries might see to it that thousands of other lives are saved.

No matter what, she has to make it back if only for those who died in the line of duty.

Still, the matter leaves her cold.

She shifts on her back again, the dozenth time in as many minutes, and then she squeals as she suddenly finds hands on her body and feels herself rising from the floorboards and tossed into the air. Her fly is brief and comes to a halt with a bounce and a curse when she lands on the mattress of the room's only bed.

A bed that has Itachi in it.

An Itachi that doesn't nothing else but settles back and closes his eyes, for all intents and purposes ready to go back to sleep. His blasé attitude in the face of her still pounding heart at the unexpected surprise is quick to rile her anger.

"What the _hell_ was that for?" she hisses.

He never even opens his eyes. "You're being too noisy. If you want to sleep in the bed, then sleep so I can too. Tomorrow will, no doubt, be a long day for the both of us."

"You could have at least warned me!"

"Yes."

That's all he says and it's so irritating that she gives a low growl of frustration. It doesn't faze him, however, and maybe he's already asleep. And, much as she loathes admitting it, he's right – she should be sleeping because tomorrow will be a long day and she needs to rest up if she wanted to make it back home.

But the situation is surreal – she's in bed with Itachi!

She lies there, stiff as a board and uncomfortable and unable to ignore the faint press of slumbering male body against her – a dangerous enemy male body. It would be better to go back to the floorboards, she knows that well, but that would be like admitting defeat and running away from the enemy and she's done enough of that already and…besides, the floors were dirty and hard.

Gradually, exhaustion of the day wears her down and she lets loose of her concerns enough to start sliding into that realm between wake and sleep. What harm can it do, after all, when it doesn't seem as if he has any bad intentions that she can see, or any interest at all in even her body? Though the thought brings up another prick of irritation, she feels too cozy to be angry and the upsetting emotion is quick to slide. Other thoughts take its place, memories and ideas drifting in and out as she drifts closer to sleep.

She thinks of training and healing and of how much more she still wants to learn for the sake of those she's failed and those she doesn't want to. She thinks of home, of Uchiha men, of family and friends, some of whom are less broken in mind and heart than others. She thinks of love and the lack thereof and remembers the barkeeper's words and thinks of amusement at the crazy idea of her and Itachi ever being a couple in love. She thinks of philosophy and the different versions and definitions of love that exist. She thinks of the past, the present, and a future full of what has yet to come, yet to be decided, and a path walked upon whose end is still unknown.

Her final thought, just as she finally falls into true sleep, comes back full circle to the man lying beside her. And she thinks of fate and odd ideas and a barkeeper's words which have no place in reality but might in the land of dreams she's about to step into.

It's not love. Now it's just two bodies, two people on opposite sides, lying side-by-side.

But then this is simply a beginning, so who can tell yet just where it will end?

It wasn't love. But there were some who called love 'lust' and there was certainly that between them. So if lust was a form of love, than maybe what was between them could be called a version of it.

And perhaps, someday, the other versions would come later.


End file.
